touch my skin (to keep me whole)

Upon arrival at the apartment building, he pulls out his wallet and hands over a couple of crisp bills to the driver, ignoring Minjeong’s protests.

The cool night air hit her the second she stepped onto the sidewalk, sharp enough to send a shiver crawling down her spine. Somewhere further down the street, music spilled faintly from an open storefront, mixing with the distant blare of traffic and the low rumble of the subway beneath the pavement.

Queens.

Minjeong could barely remember the last time she’d ventured this far out of Manhattan.

The taxi pulls away before she can second-guess herself, taillights disappearing into the night. The gesture makes her tense, fingers tightening around her handbag as if she’s bracing herself.

She feels a hand rest on the small of her back, guiding her into the apartment building. The touch is comforting in a way that only unsettles her further.

On wobbly legs, Minjeong lets herself be guided into the elevator. The graffiti-covered walls and lingering smell of weed and piss do nothing to settle her nerves.

The elevator clunks softly as it climbs, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead. Minjeong kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead until movement in the mirror caught her attention. Her own reflection stares back at her.

Gone was the cool, composed woman from the bar - the one with sharp remarks and amused smiles and enough confidence to go home with a stranger without hesitation. Now she looks tired, vulnerable.

Beside her, he’s leaning casually against the elevator wall - entirely relaxed, like he couldn’t feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

But then his eyes lifted toward the mirror too, and immediately soften. He makes a move to close the distance between them. “You good?”

The concern in his voice catches her off guard.

He drapes an arm over her shoulders and pulls her in closer. ‘‘Don’t worry. My place is a lot nicer than this, I promise.’’

The warmth of his body seeps through the thin fabric of her coat almost immediately. She finds grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.

“The building just has…” he pauses briefly, glancing around the elevator with mild disdain, “…character.”

The elevator jolts gently before slowing to a stop. As doors slide open, he glances down at her, arm still warm around her shoulders. “You can still run away, you know.”

Minjeong looks up at him then. He’s watching her carefully, almost like he’s trying to make sure she’s comfortable without making it obvious.

Minjeong exhales slowly through her nose before stepping out of the elevator first. “Well,” she says dryly, adjusting the strap of her handbag on her shoulder, “don’t just stand there staring. You invited me up, remember?”

He guides them both through the corridor, thankfully free of the smells that plague the elevator. He opens the door to his apartment, painted a deep navy blue dulled slightly by age around the edges. Slowly, Minjeong follows him inside, unsure of what to expect.

And immediately, she’s caught off guard.

Soft golden lighting spills across dark hardwood floors. The scent of cedar and laundry detergent lingers in the air. The apartment doesn’t feel like the apartment of a reckless twenty-something man, it feels intentional.

A charcoal couch sits tucked beneath the windows, softened by carelessly thrown blankets and mismatched cushions that somehow still work together. A record player sits near the window, piles of records next to it. Framed prints lean against the walls rather than hanging properly, like he’d never gotten around to finishing decorating.

Near the kitchen, a narrow shelf holds liquor bottles beside a row of half-dead succulents struggling valiantly for survival beneath the window light.

The apartment feels lived in rather than curated. Messy in places. Personal in others. Young. And somehow, that unsettles her more than the dirty elevator had.

“You look disappointed,” he says lightly behind her as he locks the door.

Minjeong glances over her shoulder. “I was expecting significantly more property damage, maybe a mattress on the floor.”

His laugh comes instantly, warm and familiar already. “Damn,” he sighs dramatically, shrugging off his coat. “And here I thought the black mould in the bathroom would win you over.”

Minjeong snorts softly.

He tosses his keys into a ceramic bowl near the entrance before turning back toward her. Without the dim lighting and noise of the bar surrounding them, Minjeong suddenly becomes painfully aware of how alone they are.

“You can take your coat off, you know. I’m not going to murder you.”

“That’s exactly what a murderer would say.”

“True.” He nods thoughtfully. “In my defense, though, I did buy you a cosmopolitan first. That feels polite.”

Another reluctant smile threatens at the corners of her mouth.

‘‘So, would you like something to drink?’’ His gaze lingers on her for half a second too long before the corner of his mouth twitches upwards again. ‘‘Or would you prefer the grand tour first?’’

Minjeong knows exactly what the ‘grand tour’ means. But somehow, that realisation makes her want him more than any of his flirting at the bar had.

Minjeong slowly slips her coat from her shoulders, carefully buying herself a few extra seconds to regain composure. She hangs it over the back of a chair near the kitchen island before turning toward him again.

His eyes flicker over her briefly, before meeting hers again.

“You know,” she said lightly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress, “for someone who claims to be charming, your subtlety could use work.”

‘‘Subtlety only gets you so far, I’ve found.”

“And arrogance gets you the rest of the way?”

“Mm.” He steps closer, slowly enough that she could move away if she wanted to. “Usually.”

Up close, he smells clean, in the kind of way that makes someone feel familiar far too quickly.

Minjeong hates how aware she suddenly became of everything - the loosened sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, the gold chain glinting faintly at the base of his throat, the way his attention never seems to wander when she speaks.

It had been a long time since someone looked at her like this.

‘‘Give me the tour.’’

Within seconds, his lips find hers. Slow at first, not rushed or careless. Like he’s taking his time learning her.

Minjeong makes the mistake of kissing him back immediately.

Her lips part on a startled breath, and he kisses her deeper. One hand settles against her waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of her dress, while the other slides carefully along her jaw.

Minjeong feels herself melting into it before she can stop herself. One of her hands fists instinctively in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His thumb brushes softly beneath her jaw, tilting her face just slightly as he kisses her again - deeper now, enough to leave her breathless. A quiet sound escapes her before she can swallow it down.